


My Bed, Your Bed

by emeraldmad



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:50:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldmad/pseuds/emeraldmad
Summary: Arthur thinks Merlin is adorable. So much, in fact, that he's willing to take a sword to his side rather than see Merlin wounded.Merlin has a bit of a hard time coming to terms with that.





	My Bed, Your Bed

Merlin’s adorable, he thinks.

And there’s a great and vast difference between _ adorable _ and _ cute, _to Arthur’s relief.

(Right?)

Because Merlin makes him want to rip his hair out sometimes for a variety of reasons. And also, cute is a much more endearing term and decidedly not what he would use to refer to what he thinks of Merlin _ at all _.

(Right?)

Sometimes, Merlin drives him crazy. When he forgets to bring him breakfast until Arthur reminds him, or when he puts Arthur’s shirt on backwards, or when he steals a piece of his dinner and pretends not to know where his sausage went. Less frequently, but still enough to be worth mentioning, when Merlin’s mere uselessness as his manservant comes through with flying colors when they’re out hunting or on an expedition.

But really, apart from those scant times where Arthur wants to slam his head against the nearest wall at Merlin’s… _ merlinness, _ he actually thinks the boy is cu— _ adorable. _

Cute is not the word he’s meant to use when referring to Merlin, he chastises himself.

Like when he cried because Arthur killed a unicorn, when he constantly teases him in a way that is totally not appropriate for a servant to talk to his master, or when he took a wounded rabbit under his wing and tried to hide it in his room until Gaius found it eating his potion ingredients, because of course Merlin forgot to close the door to his room.

Or right now, when he was furiously trying to hide his tears behind his hands as he sat beside a wounded Arthur in his bloodstained bed.

“_Why _would you take that blow for me, sire? I’m the one supposed to protect you! You’re the king, not a knight!”

_ Because I don’t want to see you hurt _, he thinks, but he refrains from saying it. Instead, he chuckles and immediately winces when a sharp pain stabs at his ribs.

“To be quite honest, Merlin, the chances of you surviving that blow would have been extremely dire in your condition. At least I can take the blow and come out alive.” He shifts and sits up at the edge of the bed, and Merlin’s hands immediately fly to his shoulders to help him stay. “I’m alright, really. The sooner I’m up, the better I’ll be.”

He watches as the last of Merlin’s tears dry on his cheek and the boy shakes his head. 

“No, sire, you’ll rip your stitches.”

“It’s been two days, Merlin. At least let me get to my own room, it gets incredibly boring in yours.” He pushes himself up and Merlin wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him up as they make their way back to Arthur’s chambers. “And remind me to order someone to make you a new bed, it isn’t in the best conditions. Sorry about that.”

Merlin nods and holds him tighter without a word, and then Arthur’s mind comes to a screeching halt.

He doesn’t know when he started caring about the state of Merlin’s belongings.

(He’d rather not think about it.)

-

Later that night, finally laying in his bed after two nights of blissful unconsciousness on Merlin’s bed, a question arises in his mind.

“Hm, Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?” Merlin chimes in, holding a tray with medicine in his hands.

He stares at him intently a second too long, startled by the glint in Merlin’s blue eyes.

“Where did you sleep while I was passed out in your bed for the last two nights?” 

Merlin averts his gaze and sets down the tray on the table. A flash of lightning illuminates the room and then the room vibrates with the loud rumble of thunder.

“On the floor, sire.”

An immense sense of discomfort settles deep inside his gut and Arthur frowns, visibly —and unnecessarily— concerned for his manservant.

“Merlin! Why didn’t you call for me to be moved to my quarters? Or for someone to bring you something to sleep on, at least?”

“I can’t do that, sire. I’m not a noble,” Merlin grabs the cuff of his sleeve and fidgets with it, to Arthur’s greater discomfort, “and the potion Gaius gave you for the bleeding, it’s very slow, so it was better not to move you until you awoke.” Another pause, longer this time, and then Merlin starts again, “It’s not a problem. I’ll have to sleep on the floor tonight anyway, sire.”

“What? Why?” 

“Well, they took my bed as you ordered, but the new one won’t be ready until tomorrow and everyone is already asleep, so I can’t ask for some sheets to sleep on.”

“Hm,” Arthur frowns again, deeper this time, and stares at Merlin long enough to bruise. An idea scratches the back of his head and then he can’t stop himself from saying it out loud, “You will sleep here, then. You’ll be able to help if something happens to my wound.”

“Here?” Merlin’s eyes widen and jump straight to the chair next to the fireplace. “I’m afraid a chair isn't much better than the floor, sire. There’s no need, really.”

“Not on the chair, idiot. Here, on the bed,” says Arthur, gesturing beside him with his hand. “It’s big enough for the two of us to sleep comfortably.”

(His heart is racing furiously in his chest, but he shoves the thought aside.)

He watches amusedly as Merlin’s face and ears —the damned ridiculous things— go red and the boy stutters over his own words, rubbing his hands desperately. It’s cute, he thinks.

“There’s no need, sire, really. I— I don’t think it’s wise, your wound— I could kick you and— it’s not necessary, I can sleep on the floor here if you’d like—”

“No, Merlin, not on the floor. On the bed. Wouldn’t want your back to hurt tomorrow.”

(Thankfully, Merlin was too dumb and flustered to stop and ask why Arthur wanted him to sleep well.)

Right as Merlin opened his mouth again to protest, he glared at him with what he hoped would shut him up.

“_ Merlin. _”

His manservant’s hands stop their frenzy and he shuts his mouth closed, looking up at him.

“Sleep here, it’s an order.”

“But—”

“Merlin, get on the bed before I change my mind and kick you out to sleep on the stables.”

Mumbling a _ Right so, sire, _Merlin takes his shoes and jacket off and gets under the covers, making sure to keep himself well away from Arthur. Once he’s settled, Arthur ignores the rapid beating of his heart and blows off the candle beside his bed.

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

It’s just as his eyes finally slip closed a good half hour later that a single, terrifying thought crosses his mind, and he gasps to himself before clamping his hand over his mouth.

He just broke his own rule. The rule about the word, _the_ _word_.

(He’s fucked, decidedly so.)

-

And, okay, maybe this _ was _a bad idea.

Because Merlin looks ridiculously cute when he’s asleep.

(Once he’s broken his own rule there’s no point in trying to keep it, is there?)

So, yes, maybe he hadn’t worked this through when he told Merlin he could sleep on his bed —the _ King’s _bed, he reminded himself— because, again, he didn’t expect to wake at first light for his first sight to be Merlin sleeping soundly beside him under the unceremoniously golden light of the early morning.

And he had the indecency of looking cute _ and _beautiful, the bastard. Right in front of the —hopelessly besotted— King, no less.

(Because he most definitely was, there was no denying it now.)

Normally, he thought, it should be Merlin waking him at this ungodly hour, not his own romantic thoughts about a certain clotpole lying asleep just a few inches away from him.

In an act of compassion, he decided to let Merlin sleep some more. He _ had _ been sleeping on the floor the last two nights, on top of taking unrelenting care of him.

He felt a warm, mixed feeling of gratefulness and fondness creep up his gut as he slowly fell asleep again, but decided to ignore it once again.

(Unconsciously, he scooted closer to Merlin and placed his hand next to his servant’s.)

-

“Rise and shine!”

This time, the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Merlin’s indecently happy face smiling at him from the window. It’s cute.

(Shit.)

“Well, you’re chipper.”

“I guess sleeping on a bed after sleeping on the ground for so many nights made wonders for me, Arthur.” Merlin walks to him and helps him sit straight on the bed. “I’m afraid it’s a bit late in the morning, sire, but I didn’t think it would be wise to wake you so early in your state.”

(Yeah, right.)

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Good thing there’s not much to do today.”

“Right so, sire. Your breakfast is ready if you’d like to eat.”

“Sure, bring it over.” He waits as Merlin brings the tray over to his bed and lays it on his lap. “And, Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“I’m... glad you slept well.”

-

“There’s been a fire in the carpentry, my lord.”

Ah, shit.

“Is everyone alright?” he asks, and the carpenter nods, to his relief. “How bad is it?”

“It was struck by lightning during last night’s storm. All the wood is charred, we can’t use it. We managed to save the tools but we don’t have materials, and the work we had is gone as well."

“I’ll send a party to collect wood tomorrow, then. Anything else?”

“Yes, I am afraid your servant’s bed is gone, my lord.” The man looks at Merlin, who stands behind Arthur near the wall. “It will be at least two days until we can have a new one ready, if not more. I’m sorry, sire.”

“Don’t worry Harold, it isn’t your fault. We’ll find him somewhere to sleep until it’s ready.”

“Thank you, sire.” The man bows briefly and leaves, leaving him alone with Merlin in the room. He turns to his manservant, who looks at him shyly from where he stands.

“You’ll sleep in my bed tonight as well then, until your own bed is ready."

Merlin frowns, confused. “Are you sure, sire? We can ask for someone to bring some sheets to sleep on to my room tonight, there’s no need.”

(Internally, he panics because that actually makes a lot more sense.)

“It’s more practical if you sleep in my room, in case something happens with the wound. And I won’t have you complaining that you can’t do chores because your back hurts tomorrow.”

Merlin smiles cheekily and nods. “Your bed it is, then.”

-

When Gaius leaves his chambers after checking Arthur’s wounds, Merlin sits beside him on the edge of Arthur’s bed. He looks upset, almost sad, and keeps eyeing Arthur as he finishes wrapping a bandage around his torso.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sire.” Merlin gets to the end of the bandage and ties it tightly. “It’s done.”

“Oh, stop it with the titles,” he barks out. “I know when something’s bothering you, idiot. Is it about sleeping here? I’m sure we can find an empty room you can sleep in if you want.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Merlin shakes his head, looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes, who can see them glossed over with tears. “Why did you take that blow for me?”

Arthur sighs and places a hand on his servant’s shoulder. “Merlin, I’m alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“But you should be fine,” Merlin answers, voice weak and broken. “You shouldn’t have done that, you don’t have to protect me.”

“You let _ me _decide who I protect, alright? Not everyone can say they’ve had the pleasure.”

His effort to lighten the mood meets success momentarily before the smile on Merlin’s face withers again. “You almost died. Do you know how much I suffered seeing you struggle to breathe on my bed, swimming in blood? You didn’t have to lunge in front of me, Arthur. Why did you do it?”

There’s a vulnerability in Merlin’s eyes he’s only seen a couple of times, and he can tell how much this hurts him. 

(And he doesn’t like to see Merlin hurt, does he?)

“I can’t bear to see you hurt, Merlin,” he starts, defeated. “As soon as he’d grabbed the sword I knew you wouldn’t survive the blow and I couldn’t stand that. I don’t regret it.”

“I stepped in front to protect you, Arthur. I’m just your servant, I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around!”

(There’s no way out of this anymore.)

“Merlin, you’re more than just my manservant.” He sighs, defeated. “I care about you. I don’t want to ever see you hurt and I would rather take a sword to my chest than see you suffering.” He knows he’s done it now, and that there’s no way back. “I love you, Merlin. You’re the only person I’m willing to jump in front of like that, even if I'm the king. You’re more than just a servant to me.”

Merlin's staring at him with wide eyes, and he takes a moment to evaluate his choices. Then, as if to worsen the blow, he kisses Merlin. He places a hand on his jaw and kisses him, as gentle as he can muster without forcing himself onto Merlin, and waits for a response.

For a moment, he thinks Merlin is going to stand up and leave, but then he feels a hand on his cheek and pressure against his lips and Merlin’s kissing back, weaving a hand around his neck to dig his fingers into Arthur’s hair and now it’s like everything he’s ever done, every wound he’s ever sustained, has led to this.

Once they’re both out of breath Merlin pushes against his cheek to pull them apart and stares into his eyes guiltily, shyly, almost like he doesn’t want to be there.

“I love you too,” Merlin says, and then a smile grows on his lips. “And I’m sorry, because I’m afraid it’s my job to keep your safety as my top priority.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes, taking Merlin's hand. "I'll have to keep jumping in front of you, then."

Merlin giggles and looks down to Arthur's lap where their hands rest. His expression turns grim again when his eyes catch on the bandage around Arthur's ribs, raising a hand to lightly skim his fingers over it. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, and Arthur doesn’t want to hear that much pain in Merlin’s voice ever again. 

He lifts Merlin's face with his other hand and looks him in the eyes. “I will take every blow for you,” he answers, squeezing Merlin’s hand. “I won’t let any harm come to you under my watch, I promise.”

Merlin offers him a soft smile and kisses him again, and Arthur feels his chest fill with something he can't describe but knows is entirely Merlin's fault.

The next morning, Merlin informs the carpenter that they won’t need the new bed anymore.


End file.
